


Down With Disease

by exandriantrashpanda (topothesia)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Multi, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topothesia/pseuds/exandriantrashpanda
Summary: Con crud claims its latest set of victims.





	Down With Disease

“Fucking Con Crud,” Marisha says miserably to Taliesin, “How come when you get it, your voice just gets all deep and sexy, but when I get it, I just sound like I’m talking with my head in a bucket of water?” She sneezes twice and then snuffles into a tissue before sighing again. 

Taliesin pats her comfortingly on the shoulder. “There, there. You don’t sound that bad,” he says. “Have you tried any of Matt’s nasal spray? Did he ever get that open?”

“Finally,” Marisha says -- although with her head full of gunk it comes out more like “Fidally” -- “he was as good with that bottle of Afrin as our characters have been with opening doors.” Taliesin laughs, deep and low. 

“But anyways,” Marisha continues, “my whole head is still stuffed up no matter what I try. Although I haven’t tried my grandmother’s favorite remedy yet,” she says, considering.

“And that is?” Taliesin asks.

“It involves bourbon and lemon juice and cayenne pepper,” Marisha says. 

“That’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard recommended for crud like this,” Taliesin says.

Marisha attempts to laugh but just starts coughing. Once she’s recovered enough to breathe, she says, “Of course you’ve heard of weirder. But it works. Or you’re unconscious and you don’t care how sick you are. One or the other.”

“You want me to make you something alcoholic and nominally helpful for upper respiratory infections while you stay in bed and blow your nose?” Taliesin asks. 

“Please?” Marisha says. “You might want to make one for Matt, too. He’s on his way home and he also says he feels like hell.”

“Has everyone fallen to this bug except for me?” Taliesin asks. 

“Sam and Liam aren’t sick yet, but they say that’s because having children in school and day care has already exposed them to 99% of whatever’s currently circulating,” Marisha says. “But I still think they’re being optimistic. We were all in each others’ pockets all weekend. Travis and Laura say they’re mostly okay although they’re worried about the baby more than anything. He seems fine, though. Brian says he’s not feeling great but he’ll be okay for Talks on Tuesday. Ashley is traveling again, but hopefully she’s also okay.”

“So you and Matt are sharing patient zero status this time,” Taliesin says. “That’s adorable.”

“I know I said sickness and in health when you married us, but I’d prefer the latter,” Marisha says.

“Wouldn’t we all, darling,” Taliesin says. “Rest a bit. I’ll go raid your liquor cabinet.”

Matt comes in when Taliesin is comparing hot toddy recipes on his phone to the available alcohol in the house. Taliesin’s first thought was that Marisha was right -- if Matt feels even half as bad as he looks, he must feel terrible. 

“Don’t even say it,” Matt says raspily before Taliesin can even open his mouth. “I know I look like shit. I feel like it, too.”

“Well, the con crud hasn’t stolen your ability to read minds,” Taliesin says. “I was just attempting to concoct some kind of horrifying alcoholic folk remedy that your wife requested. Why don’t you go take a rest with her and I’ll bring you one too?”

“I feel terrible enough to think that drinking whatever you bring me is a fine idea,” Matt says, and heads off towards the bedroom. 

Taliesin finally does manage to improvise some kind of beverage that will ostensibly cure them or render them slightly comatose, but when he knocks on the bedroom door and enters, steaming mugs in hand, Matt and Marisha are already wheezily asleep, still fully clothed, Marisha clutching a tissue in her left fist and holding onto Matt with her right.

“Well, isn’t this both adorable and horrifying,” Taliesin mutters, setting the mugs down on the nightstand. He putters around picking up discarded tissues that haven’t made it into the wastebin and taking half drunk cups of tea that are scattered about back into the kitchen and putting them in the sink. 

When he comes back into the bedroom, Marisha stirs and mutters, “Just come to bed already,” before flopping her head back down. 

“You’re sick,” Taliesin says gently. “Both of you are.”

“If you haven’t been exposed to this by now, you really are an immortal eldritch being,” Matt says as he also briefly awakens. He takes a snuffling breath and says, “And I’m cold and you’re always warm.”

“So goddamn demanding,” Taliesin says, but he’s already crawling up the middle of the bed to settle down in between them under the covers. Both Matt and Marisha snuggle against him, one on each side, and Taliesin does his best to get an arm around each of them. “Better?” he asks, and gets sleepy murmurs in response. 

By the time everyone’s awake again, the beverages have gone cold, but they reheat them while waiting for soup to be delivered. Marisha says she can’t taste anything and so ends up finishing hers; Matt takes a sip at the exact moment that he starts coughing and ends up involuntarily washing his sinuses with it and Taliesin has to pat him on the back until he stops choking.

“Ugh,” Matt says, once he can talk again, albeit still hoarsely, and Taliesin’s brought him a glass of water. “This is ridiculous. I need to be better by Thursday.”

Taliesin just glares at Matt, and Matt looks back with literal feverish intensity. Taliesin just sighs. “You need to get better when you get better. Someone else can deal with Thursday if they have to.”

Matt looks like he wants to argue, but then he just sighs weakly and blows his nose again. 

“Taliesin’s right, babe,” Marisha says. 

“Outnumbered and outvoted,” Matt says, sighing, but gazing at Marisha sweetly, as if she hung the moon. 

After soup and another round of “what else is in the liquor cabinet and/or the kitchen that could be said to have medicinal properties when combined,” Taliesin escorts both Matt and Marisha back into the bedroom. “Well, you’re both still sick, but now you’re both still sick, full of soup, and slightly tipsy,” he says. “Is that any better?”

“I care a whole lot less that my head still feels like it’s full of cement,” Marisha says, albeit slurrily, as she bonelessly sprawls back onto the bed. 

“This is better than whatever they did when they changed the formula for Nyquil,” Matt says. 

“You are not mixing cold medicine with any of this,” Taliesin says. 

“Nah, I just want to sleep,” Matt says, “But you should come with. I’m still cold.”

Taliesin places a hand on Matt’s forehead. “You’re burning up, though.”

“Feed a cold, cuddle a fever?” Marisha suggests sleepily. 

“This is just a ploy to get me in your bed and expose me to more of your germs,” Taliesin says. 

Marisha and Matt laugh but it turns into coughing halfway through.

“You’re both pathetic right now, and it’s working,” Taliesin says, clambering back into bed with them again, once again in the middle. 

***

“This is completely unfair,” Taliesin says hoarsely to Matt and Marisha two days later when he wakes up feeling like someone has packed his sinuses full of concrete. “I am supposed to be immune to minor illnesses like these. Or just end up -- how did you put it -- sexy voiced?” He ends his sentence by sneezing and frowns at this further affront to his dignity.

“Hey, at least we’re taking turns,” Marisha says. “I almost feel better, and Matt does too. Now we can take care of you.”

“You can open your own damn nasal spray, though,” Matt says. 

Taliesin laughs snuffily and sighs. “Okay, and maybe this time no one makes anything involving moonshine?”

“We’ll learn from our past mistakes,” Marisha says. “Go back to sleep, Tal. We’ve got this.”

“Yeah, we’ve got you,” Matt says.

“You always do,” Taliesin says, before flopping back down with his hair haloing out colorfully around him as he falls back asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The bit about Matt and the nasal spray is taken from a tweet he made while at NYCC.


End file.
